


Distractions (I'm Looking at You)

by LoverCrowley (ShadowScale)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowScale/pseuds/LoverCrowley
Summary: Aziraphale is trying to read. Crowley doesn't distract him on purpose,  but he distracts him still.





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale is trying to read. Trying very hard, in fact. He shouldn’t need to try so hard because the book in his hands is a very good one and would, in other circumstances, have captivated his attention entirely. Instead, about ten percent of his attention is dedicated to words in front of him, and the other ninety is hopelessly lost to the demon sitting beside him. If whatever it is that’s he’s doing could be called sitting.

The angel lets out a slow breath and allows his eyes to slide from the sentence he’s been tackling for the past four minutes to his companion. “Are you quite alright, Crowley?” He tries to keep his voice light, casual but it comes out sounding concerned. He’d been like this even at dinner, after all.

Crowley freezes, mid-adjustment and offers an apologetic look. “Er, didn’t mean to distract you, I just can’t get quite comfortable tonight,” he explains, one leg folded beneath him, the other stretched out so his foot rests against the coffee table.

“You’ve been shuffling about since you sat down,” Aziraphale says patiently. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in my chair? I daresay it’s more plush than this sofa is.”

A thoughtful hum sounds from Crowley’s throat but he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s too far away.”

“Too far? It’s maybe two feet. It isn’t ev-” Aziraphale stops short as Crowley’s legs drape over his own.

“Too far from you, I meant. Not too far to walk.”

“Hm.” Aziraphale ignores the heat rising in his cheeks and hopes Crowley does too.

Crowley settles himself, head against the arm of the sofa. “Is that alright? Not going to bother your reading?” He asks, nodding down to his legs.

“No dear, it’s just fine. As long as you’re comfortable now.” He gently pats Crowley’s calf then gets back into reading. He’s able to get through a couple chapters before Crowley shuffles again, turning a full 180 degrees. Aziraphale stares, certain the demon will notice the pink coloring his cheeks this time, as Crowley sets his head into his lap.

“What about this?” Crowley asks with a soft smile, a glint in his eyes that Aziraphale couldn’t quite label. 

“Ah, what about it?”

“Is this alright?” He has the audacity to sound hopeful.

“Yes, dear.”

Crowley seems to relax farther, closing his eyes and allowing his smile to linger on his lips. Aziraphale watches him for a moment, carefully dog-ears his page, and sets aside the book. His hands hover like hummingbirds and he feels sure his heart is beating as fast. At last, Aziraphale finds he can stall no longer. It would serve no purpose anyway. He lets one hand rest against Crowley’s chest, and the other brushes through his hair tentatively, sweeping a few unruly strands from his face.  
Crowley’s eyes open slowly, cautiously, as if looking at Aziraphale will scare him off or make him change his mind. Aziraphale thinks this is the most pleased he’s seen Crowley in quite some time.

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asks, his fingers continuing their leisurely course through Crowley’s hair. It’s as soft as it’s always been. Too short now to braid like he used to, but soft and stylish nonetheless.

“Yesssss,” Crowley hisses. “I could stay like this for hours...”

And he does. He tries to keep his eyes open, to study his angel from this new point of view, but he falls asleep there with his head heavy against Aziraphale’s thighs, soothed by the comfort and closeness and the understanding that whatever he had hoped for, right then was enough.

Aziraphale studies him in kind. He watches the flutter of his eyelashes, the rise and fall of his chest as he sinks deeper into slumber. Aziraphale wonders if he dreams. He wonders how long he will sleep. He wonders if Crowley had been thinking about this all evening or if it was unplanned. He tries to stop wondering. Just then, it was enough to feel happy in the moment.

He picks up his book from the side table and continues on.


	2. Chapter 2

“Would you like something to drink, dear?” Aziraphale asks as they cross the threshold of the bookshop and hang up their coats.

“No thanks, not tonight,” Crowley replies. A little alcohol had the potential to make things go smoother, but it also had the potential to push things somewhere he doesn’t quite want them to go which wasn’t worth the risk. Crowley just wants to be a little closer tonight.

“Well you know where I keep things, if you change your mind,” Aziraphale says as he scoops a book from one table and moves to settle on one end of the sofa.  
Crowley thanks someone that Aziraphale decided on the sofa instead of his usual chair, it would have made things rather more difficult. He moves to spread himself at the other end of the couch. He thinks to slide closer, stretch one arm behind the angel and rest his head against his shoulder under the guise that he wants to read with him… No, Aziraphale knows he doesn’t have much interest in reading.

Crowley instead shifts into many positions over the next few minutes, none of which move him any closer. Knees pulled to his chest. One leg hooked over the arm rest. Upside down with both legs over the back of the couch. Both legs crossed under him. One leg crossed under him. 

Aziraphale finally speaks up. “Are you quite alright, Crowley?”

“Er, didn’t mean to distract you, I just can’t get quite comfortable tonight.”

“You’ve been shuffling about since you sat down,” Aziraphale says patiently. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in my chair? I daresay it’s more plush than this sofa is.”

“Nah, that’s too far away.”

“Too far? It’s maybe two feet. It isn’t ev-” 

Crowley turns so he is laid over the length of the sofa, his head propped against one armrest and his feet sticking out just over the edge of the other. “Too far from you, I meant. Not too far to walk.”

“Hm.”

Crowley isn’t sure what to glean from such a noncommittal response. “Is that alright? Not going to bother your reading?” He takes in the faint coloring that comes over Aziraphale’s cheeks, making him look just a bit more cherubic.

“No dear, it’s just fine. As long as you’re comfortable now.”

Crowley watches him return to his book. He watches the way his lips move as he silently mouths the words, watches expressions flit across his face as he reacts to the text, watches him drift out of this world and into the one caught in the pages. Crowley doesn’t want to disturb him, he really doesn’t. He almost hates to break the content state he seems to be in, but he has to. He has to do it now otherwise he’ll never do it at all.

Crowley sits up and turns 180 degrees, ducking his head a little though Aziraphale moves his book out of the way as soon as he realizes where Crowley is headed. It’s as cozy as he’d imagined it would be. Sort of like a pillow, but warm and without the feeling of sinking into it a bit.

What about this?” Crowley asks, voice quieter than he meant it to come out.

“Ah, what about it?” Aziraphale’s cheeks are darker than before, closer to red than pink now.

“Is this alright?” Crowley isn’t sure what he would do if Aziraphale said no. A part of him thinks Aziraphale wouldn’t say no even if it wasn’t alright, just for the sake of avoiding awkwardness. Crowley dismisses that thought at once. He can trust the angel to always be honest about his boundaries.

“Yes, dear.”

The simple two words put Crowley at ease immediately. Tension drains out of his shoulder and he lets his eyes slip shut. This is good, this is close. After some time he hears a soft thud; it’s a book against a table. He assumes Aziraphale is taking a break from reading, that he’ll probably want Crowley to move so he can stand and stretch, maybe get a cup of tea or a glass of wine or-

There is a gentle weight against his chest. It’s not hot but it feels like it’s burning straight through his clothes, right down into his skin. As fingers ghost across his forehead and comb upward through his hair, his breath catches in his throat. He opens his eyes slowly.

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asks.

“Yesssss.” Crowley hears himself say. “I could stay like this for hours,” he murmurs, more thinking to himself aloud than answering Aziraphale.

He’s pleased to find that the angel allows him to do exactly that. He stays there, gazing at him as he often has, but this time with the delight of a new angle. Crowley tries his best to commit the picture to memory. Aziraphale largely avoids eye contact, preferring to keep his vision trained on the movement of his own hand, but Crowley catches his gaze now and again.

Crowley doesn’t realize he’s getting tired. He does however, realize that while he’s always felt comfortable and safe with the angel, he felt a new sense of security and belonging just then.

Crowley falls asleep in Aziraphale’s lap. He does not dream, but he has the best rest he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 is in the works and will be the same scene, but more from Crowley's perspective.


End file.
